Maybes
by Alithea
Summary: Pamela doesn't hate Selina, not really. Femslash.


Title: Maybes  
Rating:PG-13  
Characters are not mine I am just borrowing.  
A/N: Normally I hate to be self disparaging, but I feel like this ending is rather weak. So I'm sorry for that, but it was the ending I got.

* * *

Pamela Isley didn't hate Selina Kyle, not exactly. She didn't like the woman, that was certain and clear from the very start, but she never hated Selina. She just wanted Selina to pick a side and stick to it. Not that Pamela had a clear side anymore, but she knew she was not good. She knew that under the right circumstances, even on this good behavior, even when she was keeping orphans safe from the terrors after the quake in Robinson park, Pamela knew she would have no qualms about killing someone again. Selina wavered between the dark and light making it hard to know where she really stood. And not knowing, made her difficult to trust. It made things complex even as they shared a residence together along with Harley.

Her greatest defense in the face of uncertainty was to rile the woman at every turn she got. Her quick barbs, and salacious tongue worked into Selina more often now than Harley. A fact the former psychiatrist never hesitated to point out if she was feeling pressed to make a point. Because the bubbly clown was smarter than Selina or Pamela liked to remember, and being well versed in observation Harley could spin the truth around and lash it out like Catwoman's whip. A far deadlier weapon than the other women wanted to admit. Somehow, Pamela understood that Harley's observations and truths would eventually undo her, and yet, still, she pushed aside the thoughts of danger by lulling herself to believe her own cutting remarks towards the young woman.

The evening was feeling like a lovely success. Pamela had just driven Selina off in a state of muffled rage. She bit at her thumb nail and grinned with apt satisfaction at the top of the stairs, only to suddenly catch a glimpse of Harley behind her. She turned, her expression shifting slightly as the blonde grinned back at her, pink tongue caught between white teeth, and mischief in her bright blue eyes. Pamela crossed her arms over her chest and started to walk off towards her part of the house.

"Whatsamatta, Pammie?" Harley beamed, accent over emphasized for effect, "Cat got ya tongue?"

Pamela stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Quite often a challenge like that would be the lead in to a long night making the blonde suffer under her cruel kisses. But the words seemed to be marked differently, the playfulness dulled by something that felt particularly vicious. Pamela wondered if it were a sort of jealousy, which tugged at her uncomfortably with larger implications. Their friendship, with and without added benefits, was just supposed to be a game. Even when it drifted too close towards other lines the pretence had remained. It was a game between lunatics, except that they both knew that it wasn't. And, here, the threat of Harley's truths stared down at her until she had no choice but to laugh them off, and return to the idea of the game. The idea that kept things safe.

* * *

The greenhouse was lush, and warm against the chill of the Gotham night. She sat at her workbench repotting seedlings into bigger vessels. Meticulous in her efforts and taking time to listen to what each young plant had to say to her. She was so focused she didn't not notice her wisteria give warning that someone had entered the greenhouse. She only turned when the seedling in her hands gave a strange shudder which made her blink and turn on her stool.

Selina stood there fingers gliding along a lily in a patent slow movement just before she locked her eyes on Pamela.

"What is it with you, Ivy," Selina asked, voice a little gruff and slightly frustrated. "Why do you keep playing this schoolyard game? The taunting...It's beneath you."

Pamela arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps, you'd prefer a different game," she asked with a wry smile. "Cat and mouse maybe. Or...cat and bat. Being chased along the rooftops in that cloying leather, is that more _your_ sort of game?"

Selina didn't bother to reply. She wasn't in full Catwoman regalia. The goggles, the whip, the kitty-cowl (as Pamela saw it) were all tucked away. The suit, however, remained. Unzipped part way to reveal just enough skin and cleavage to be completely maddening. It was a tease meant for someone else. Pamela didn't bother with teases. She only ever covered up in the face of trying to be more human, knowing she was not, and could never be again. She was made of the Green, and in the Green there was no covering for modesty. There was nothing to be modest about.

"Just layoff," Selina said finally.

"Then don't react," Pamela quipped.

"What are you, twelve?" Selina sneered. "You can only get someone's attention by mocking them or blowing pheromones on them?"

Pamela was in no mood for this. She never was. She was still slightly reeling from what Harley had said, and how she had said it. She bit at the tip of her tongue, considered her frustration, and remembered that one time when she almost had Selina completely. But things didn't work out in her favor then, and she wasn't sure they ever would.

The easy thing would have been to have the vines of her greenhouse ensnare Catwoman. The easy thing would have been to tell her special plants to release their potent pollens. The easy thing would have been to even amp up her own toxins. It would have been easy to skip the entire game and just kill the woman. It would have only taken a thought.

Easy was not a current part of Pamela's lexicon, and then there was the small matter of all that ease proving Selina's point. Pamela certainly couldn't have that.

With a sigh Pamela leaned back against her workbench. She grinned, and in a show of faith gestured as if to concede the point to Selina. To which the other woman, baffled for a moment, could only take a step back.

"You're always running, Selina," Pamela said softly. "I don't like to chase."

"So you drive people off." She shook her head and said, "Maybe we've been living together too long."

"Maybe." Pamela pushed gently away from the workbench, eyes towards the ground, before looking up and catching Selina's gaze.

"Or we've just never gotten along."

"Maybe." Her voice dropped to a bare whisper, and she took a step forward.

"You want everyone to fall into categories like your plants."

"Maybe." She grimaced, but was glowing inwardly. Another step forward, and tongue set between her teeth to keep an unnecessary quip from leaving her lips.

"Maybe," Selina echoed and then said, "Are you...doing...that?"

Pamela shook her head, closing the gap between them. "This isn't a game." It was though, just a different kind. She reached out, grasping the open edges of Catwoman's suit, pulling her forward, kissing her briefly before stepping away.

Selina blinked and then muttered, "Damn it," before catching Pamela's wrist and pulling her back, kissing her roughly.

* * *

Harley sat on the stairs and bit down on her knuckle as a potted plant near the door bloomed, flowering in a way she had never seen before. She giggled then, incredulous and almost bitter. Almost, but for the fact that she knew she had managed to drive the two together. She let out a deep breath, not jealous, and yet perhaps she was. Then she thought that what she was feeling must be the strange echo of what Pamela must feel whenever she went back to Mister J. Except it wasn't the same. Whatever was going on in the greenhouse was nothing more than pressure finally being released. She hoped and she knew that all at once.

An hour or so later she emerged from her room to catch Selina stalking towards her own end of the house. She waved, and grinned wickedly.

"You aren't-"

Harley shook her head. "I was right that's all that matters."

Selina nodded, and then tilting her head slightly she said, "Maybe you two should stop playing games."

"Maybe," Harley replied, slipping back into her room. She leaned into the door and added, "Maybe it's time to end this charade."

End.


End file.
